


Breaking the Ice Redux

by TheGuardian219



Series: To Shatter an Iceman [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brother Feels, Case, Gen, John is a Good Friend, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Whump, Pain, Psychological Torture, Sherlock Feels, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-01 20:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGuardian219/pseuds/TheGuardian219
Summary: He was dead. No one was looking for him. Moriarty has all the time in the world to shatter the Ice Man as well as make the consulting detective dance with puzzles.It was a complicated game of chess they played through the years. Jim Moriarty now had Mycroft in check, but he suddenly decided to pause their game.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> It's back! I'm back! It better not be an angry mob with pitchforks I hear yelling out my window!
> 
> This is technically a re-do of the series. Everything will be fine if you don't read the previous ones. If you have read them, it won't be too much of a problem. Hopefully you'd have forgotten the terrible plot holes there by now.
> 
> Please leave any coments below and I hope you enjoy!

_"Mycroft dear, please do try and calm your brother down."_

_"Of course, mummy."_

_Mycroft walked towards the living room where Sherlock was running around in excitement, desperate to open the boxes by the tree._

_"Is it time yet, Mycroft?"_

_"Not yet, Sherlock." he shook his head as his brother bounced up and down the couch. "Why don't we read something to pass the time? You're giving mummy a headache all the way to the kitchen."_

_Sherlock pouted but brightened at the concept of having Mycroft reading him a story. "But I want to open the presents now." he whined just for the sake of arguing._

_"It will be there later. Nothing you do will change it. Now, move over." Mycroft ordered as he plopped down the couch._

_"Mycroft?"_

_Mycroft wriggled to get to a comfortable position only to have Sherlock stiffen. "What is it?"_

_"You can't stay here forever."_

_His whole body became cold as if ice replaced all his blood. He shook his head unconsciously._

_"Mycroft, wake up."_

_"I-" his throat felt dry._

_"I don't-"_

_He couldn't breathe. Why can't he breathe? Why ca-_

**...Breaking the Ice...**

"There he is."

An annoying voice filled the room as his labored breaths filled the silence. The cold water clung to him and chilled him even more, making him shiver through his bonds. He longed to curl up but the chains on his ankles prevented the motion and his hands were securely cuffed on the arms of the chair. His vision cleared and he once again set sights on the only four people he's had contact with throughout his captivity. 

There were technically five but he's hardly seen the other one.

"How was the nap, Iceman?"

James Moriarty grinned at him not unlike a cat who managed to trap the canary and decided to play with it painfully. Mycroft licked his lips and felt the chill in the room.

"Refreshing." Let it never be said that Mycroft  Holmes never raised his head high in the face of danger.

Jim smirked as he always did when he planned to have some physical interaction between his friends and his guest. The three men seemed less eager but they would never say no to some playtime with Mycroft. Grunts do like it when their prey can't fight back. Mycroft winced as he inadvertently called himself such a word.

Elliot was the hitter. He liked using his hands to bruise Mycroft up and the first to strike whenever Mycroft spat out some insult in the heat of the moment. He used his feet to add insult to injury whenever the chair fell and during the occasional moments when Mycroft was released from the chair and is able to fall on his own. It was mostly because of him Mycroft began worrying about the braincells he has possibly lost not so much from being hit but by being exposed to such stupidity on almost a daily basis.  
By the way Aron and Vinny kept to the sides, it only meant that Elliot will have the spotlight today. Oh joy.  
"Have you finally decided to tell me the point of this?" He ground out at Moriarty's amused chuckle.

"My, my. You haven't figured it out yet? You've been here for at least eight weeks and no clue? You're losing your edge, but maybe you weren't as sharp as I thought you were."

He may have lost more in these eight weeks than just his edge and he's not quite sure he could lose anymore of it. While retreating to his mind was useful, it still had some limits and disadvantages. His mind was going as fast as it could as it recalculated his chances of escape and went through all possible outcomes. He's been going through this almost everyday and the results are almost always identical but he saw how his chances of surviving were getting lower as each day passed with no clue of why he's being held in the first place.  
Elliot was approaching him as Moriarty stood back.

"Almost eight weeks and you haven't done any dirty work." He let the thought hang in the air before raising his eyes to meet Moriarty's.

"These people are my tools. They do what I tell them to do." He patted Elliot's cheek as the stocky man continued to stare blankly at Mycroft. "What's the rush? No one's looking for you."

That made Mycroft freeze. He was right.

Everyone thought he was dead.

No one was coming.

What was the point?

**...Breaking the Ice...**

Sherlock's eyes scanned the wall. The cases were coming everywhere. There were few that stood out and they investigated those. They used them as distractions. Used them to avoid a greater evil no one was mentioning but everyone was worrying about.

Sherlock can't really blame them for worrying. The mess on the living room caused Mrs. Hudson to babble for five minutes straight before she sighed and went back downstairs. The wall was covered with strings tyingpictures an newspaper articles. A few printed out copies from John's blog littered the sides but the blogger couldn't see the connection. As always.

It was Moriarty who ordered everything. He's to blame for M- **his** death.

There was something in Sherlock's stomach- a churning of the gut that made him question everything. Intuition may not have any scientific explanation but-

"Sherlock!"

"What?" he snapped at whoever interrupted his thought. It was John.

"You have to eat." John was holding a plateof buttered toast. Judging by the state of the kitchen, John has been standing by his side for three minutes. No, John has been nagging him for three minutes.

"I'll eat when I finish the case."

"We have no case."

Sherlock glared at the ess in the wall and John's eyes softened. "Look-"

"No. Don't even try saying ' _Mycroft wouldn't want to see you like this.'_ if anything I'm sure he'd be begging me to solve this case and put Jim Moriarty where he belongs."

A part of him was screaming something Sherlock refused to listen to. He needs something to focus on or else he'll spiral out of control and crash.

"You can't do this to yourself."

"I need this, John."

John lowered the plate to a nearby table and fixed Sherlock with a worried gaze. "And I need you-"John blocked the wall, facing Sherlock straight on."-to go take a break. Stay in bed and eat something at least." He gently pushed him away but his friend resisted. He cleared hs throat. "Look, either go eat something or I'll tie you to your chair and have Mrs. Hudson force feed you."

Captain Watson can issue any order he wants and everyone would follow but Sherlock always had a problem with authority. _Always had and always will._

"I need this, John"

"I know. But running yourself to the ground isn't the solution. I hate to say this but Mycroft is dead. Nothing you do can change it. Moriarty is still out there and we all want to catch him but you need to rest. You tend to miss details when you get too obsessed." Sherlock's eyes glazed over for a few seconds but it left as quickly as it appeared.  
He glared but shrugged as his mind provided him with the calculations. It was too much trouble and while he wanted to show his stubborness, John was right. He needs a break, to get a fresh set of eyes to solve a puzzle.

But every second is a second Moriarty is able to plan. Every second is a second Moroarty is able to gloat. Because Moriarty did warn him and Sherlock didn't listen. Sherlock clenched his fists on his side beforetking a deep breath.

The detective walked past his friend and walked towards his chair, grabbing a piece of toast and munching on it. He whipped out his phone on his other hand as he plopped down on his armchair.

Moriarty will pay.

It was common knowledge that if one were to play too closely to a Holmes they would get burned. Moriarty may enjoy the fire but he can never escape the yinferno held by a vengeful Holmes. Especiallyif he fanned the flames himself by extinguishing another.


	2. Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I decided to revive this fic, I thought to myself "I'm gonna have a regular update date! Once s week seems reasonable for my short chapters!" and it was. I barely manage two pages here. 
> 
> But then this came out late. I'm not sure if I'd be able to update next week since we have A LOT to do. 
> 
> Anyone out there who thinks I abandoned this thing again, worry not for I have not! *Ignores other in-progress fics* 
> 
> I'm determined to see this through the end and I'll try to update within a week. Anyway, any criticism is welcomed. Please enjoy!

Jim Moriarty is not an idiot. Despite his seemingly spontaneous personality, Mycroft could see traces of planning in every move he makes. Moriarty is a chess player. Mycroft himself has been playing against this foe for quite some time now. What slips his mind is why Moriarty allows his game to get sloppy. He's had Mycroft in check for months and decided to pause the game, why not just get on with it and make the king fall?   
It always involved Sherlock, Mycroft concluded.

Since the consulting criminal set eyes on his brother, those two wanted to test eachother's limit and only Mycroft stood between the both of them. Moriarty has the perfect opportunity to get to Sherlock, why has he paused the game?

His head began aching. He sighed and took one quick look at the facts sprawled before him before opening his eyes. He squinted as the light from his cell burned his vision. Eliot still hasn't finished the assault on his body. The aching of his head increased as his whole body began screaming at him. When he gets out of this, six months wouldn't be enough for him to heal, not that that hasn't stopped him before.

"Back again?" Eliot taunted him.

Mycroft defiantly stared at the stocky man. He could hear running water. Oh joy.

* * *

 

**BREAKING THE ICE**

* * *

 

His phone was ringing. He dropped whatever it was he was holding and strode across the room to answer it.

 _"Stop shooting the wall. You're scaring the neighbors again."_ It was John, Mrs. Hudson called him again it seems.

"They are well aware who their neighbor is, they should be used to it by now."

 _"Sherlock."_ He rolled his eyes at John's tone.

"Don't get maudlin, John. Mrs. Hudson was clearly blowing things out of proportions again."

He stepped over the coffee table to view The Wall. Six bullet holes stood stark against six portraits, their faces hardly recognizable anymore.

He furrowed his brow as he smoothed over the wood and removed any that may give him splinters in the future.

John continued to prattle on as Sherlock's gave shifted to nother portrait. "Yes, yes. I'll be right with you." He murmurred to the phone before tossing it down on the couch. He looked closer on the photograph. He bit his lip as something flared deep within his chest. The detective lowered his eyes beforequietly sighing.

He walked back on his armchair and sat back, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. He quickly disregarded the position and settled on drumming one hand on the arm of his chair as the other cradled his head. Nothing. The feeling was not going away.

_"Mr. Holmes was captured."_

He gripped his hair as information bombarded him. What things could have been, what they were like, what could have changed. It was frustrating. He was too late.  
Too late to say goodbye.

He retreated deep into his mind palace.

* * *

 

**BREAKING THE ICE**

* * *

 

_"Dear me, Brother-mine. What has happened to you now?"_

_"You happened. You died." He glared at the Mycroft in his mind palace. His eyes stung from seeing the Mycroft he knew, the Mycrofr who was not dead._

_"Everybody dies." Mycroft scoffed at him._

_"Not you." The petuliant reply camr._

_"And yet here we are."_

_Silence fell before them as Sherlock clung to the illusion._

_"This is pointless, you know. This isn't real, you're fooling yourself." Mycroft stared deeply into his eyes._

_"I'm not here to fool myself."_

_"And yet you're arguing with yourself."_

_Even the Mycroft in his mind is annoying. This is really pitiful. Sherlock took a deep breath as he prepared himself._

_"Well, I'm flattered."Jim Moriarty sat before him in chains. "Really, I am. Major upgrade."_

_S_ _herlock ignored Moriarty's exagerrated whistle as he inspected the room._

_"Why did you have him abducted? What was your game?"_

_"I wanted you to burn."_

_Sherlock swallowed as the voice echoed throughout his mind-palace. "No, that's not right." He mumbled to himself._

_"Oh poor little Sherlock without his big brother to keep the big bad wolf away." Moriarty grinned towards Sherlock's distress._

_"Shut up!"_

_Sherlock willed Moriarty away but the chained criminal fought. He kept taunting Sherlock and the detective was ready to physically drag him back to his cell in the mind palace. "I wouldn't be here if you didn't want me to be. I'm you, you idiot."_

* * *

**BREAKING THE ICE**

* * *

 

Sherlock opened his eyes and took several deep breaths to gather his thoughts. He could hear John's footfalls as he made hisway the seventeen steps with two plastic bags. John was huffing at the doorway, he walked from the store to here.

"Let's see what you've done now." John said before lowering the grocery bags in the kitchen. John sighed as he gazed at the damage from the kitchen archway, "That's coming out of your side of the rent." The doctor paused as he remembered Mycroft wouldn't be covering part of Sherlock's-and sometimes both when John's budget tightens-rent. He's probably set up a plan for them but it wouldn't be actually Mycroft.  
By Sherlock's silence, John gathered he was thinking the same thing.

Silence fell before them as John tured back to the kitchen to fix the groceries and Sherlock laid on the couch to think.   
It wasn't awkward at all.

* * *

 

**BREAKING THE ICE**

* * *

 

  
Mycoft gasped for breath as he once again sat upright on the chair. He was cold from the water and his lungs burned from the session. The cold often helped him numb the pain, he was grateful but he would never like it.

His body may be screaming but his mind was still intact. It would have to do. The tracking device on his ring was useless seeing as he didn't have it anymore. Pity, it held some remnance of sentiment; it would be quite rude to exhume a corpse just to pry a ring from it's dead fingers.

He was aware that he was slipping. He was-is- falling down a path he never imagined.   
Just when he thought things wouldn't get worse, the lights went out. He was aware they knew he was never afraid of the dark. So he waited. And waited. But the lights never came back on.

There was never really anything hiding in the dark, he was sure of it since everything one sees is just a figment of their imagination. The only thing in the cell was him.

And no matter how much he tried to convince himself there was nothing to be afraid of, he also knew was his own worst enemy. Oh joy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember those A/N's in ff.net where we either get 'bloopers' or the characters interacting with the author? Yeah that was so ten-year old me. We're not doing that. Hope you enjoyed!!


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